


That's the beauty of a secret. You know you're supposed to keep it.

by serendipityinwords



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, emotionally stunted clarke griffin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:39:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityinwords/pseuds/serendipityinwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin doesn't have many secrets but she still wants Bellamy Blake to know everything.</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>The one where Clarke is an emotionally stunted woman who now has an accidental boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's the beauty of a secret. You know you're supposed to keep it.

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I like writing emotionally stunted characters, okay? It's not like I'm projecting or anything hahahahaha.

 

Clarke Griffin was bad at relationships. A guy literally died because of how bad she was at relationships. A bit of an exaggeration, but you get the idea.

Which is why she was so terrified of Bellamy Blake.

She hadn’t realized when they started dating. She would’ve stopped herself, if she’d known. But she didn’t, so it went a little (exactly) like this;

1)    She wanted to punch Bellamy Blake in his perfect, pretty face.

2)    She wanted to make out with his perfect, pretty face.

3)    They fought a lot, simultaneously, thinking about fucking each other.

4)    They eventually fucked. (And it was glorious)

5)    But she could handle a little casual sex with Bellamy Blake, because he was aggravating and casual was the only way to go.

6)    She could not.

7)    He was smart and kind and funny and considerate and she was fucked (and not in the good way).

8)    She started spending the night with him.

9)    And, days with him.

10)  And, any other morsel of free time she got. with him

11)  Again, she was fucked.

So, you could say it was all an accident. That’s not to say that she was unhappy. She was happy. She was so happy, it was really unsettling. Because she of all people knew that there was nothing more finite than happiness like this. The way she figured it, everyone got their fair share of happiness. Watching Duck dynasty with Octavia and Raven made her happy. Baking with Monty made her happy. Drawing made her happy. Being with Bellamy? It made her feel like she held the entire world in the palm of her hand. And that kind of happiness was just begging to be taken away.

But, she decided that she’d try. Because she deserved it and because Bellamy deserved it and really, she was just being unbearably dramatic about these things.

She was _so_ bad at relationships.

But all things taken into consideration, it was really that off-handed comment he made, that had set it off.

Clarke let out a truly un-ladylike groan as she stared at the laptop screen, as if the power of her displeasure would cause the webpage to open-the-fuck-up. Slow WiFi was the bane of her existence. Fine, she was being super first-worldy about it, but goddamn it, she was tired and she just needed to finish up the goddamn assignment so that she could have a lot of sex with her goddamn, accidental boyfriend.

“Princess, you’re really turning me on with all the groaning.” Said Bellamy, casually lounging on her bed, fucking shirtless. _Great_.

“I’m glad my pain is doing something for you.” She shot him a glare and he, in return, sent a lazy smile in her direction that did _things_ to her.

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong.” And the concern did more things to her.

“This webpage is taking forever to open up.” Clarke said, as she buried her face in her hands, containing another groan.

“Just like you.”

And that should have been the end of it, but it was far from the end for Clarke.

Logically, she knew she was a little emotionally stunted. She didn’t do feelings. To Clarke her feelings were innately hers. She cared about people and she loved them with everything she had, but she never found it necessary to empty her soul out for anyone.  She didn’t think it was a flaw and she knew Bellamy never meant any malice in it and yet, something in her ached at the prospect of Bellamy feeling unwanted in anyway. She didn't have that many secrets, but she wanted him to know everything about her, anyway. Besides, how could he think that she felt anything but utter affection for him? She cared for him like she never cared for anyone else. He had to know. And yet, he had only smiled at her fondly, like her guarded emotions were just another quirk he had come to accept.

She wanted to protest. Tell him something that would make him change his mind. But when he smiled like that, she always seemed to forget everything. Because his smile was something wild and secretive and unfathomable and it made her stupid heart stumble again and again. So, she forgot the whole emotional turmoil thing and traded in the sex with some good, old-fashioned cuddling.

And then, in the middle of the night, she remembered and she couldn’t get it out of her system. She was quirky like that. What if he had never made that comment? She knew Bellamy, he would have never have brought it up again. He would have just decided that not knowing Clarke was just a part of his life. He’d probably be on his death-bed and his last dying words to Clarke would be something along the lines of _you never opened up_ _to me_ or _you’re kind of a stone cold bitch_. And then, it would’ve been too late for her to open up to him because he’d be _fucking dead._

She glanced over at Bellamy. He was a beautiful boy, all high cheek bones and full lips, freckles like stars flecked across his face. She remembered when he first slept over. Awake, he was a nightmare who just happened to be really good with his hands. That’s what she told herself anyway. Asleep, he was near-angelic. An artist’s dream. And yes, he was something she’d have dreamt of. Tongue of fire, all sarcasm and eye rolls and loud opinions. He was pretty in a way people just _weren’t_ and kind when he thought no one was looking.

So of course, she’d gone ahead and fallen for him. Now she was his, as much as he was hers. And it wasn’t really possession, it was more like an invisible thread binding them together. She’d tug when she needed him, and he’d tug right back. She didn’t believe in soulmates. She believed in loving someone so much, everything about them just felt right. That was a choice. Not some cosmic collision or pre-written destiny. It was something she strived to keep and love and hold. That was Bellamy for her. The rightness of him overwhelmed her sometimes. How did she get so lucky?

She traced her fingers over his cheek, drawing lines across his freckles. It was like forming constellations. She could never tell them in the night sky the way Bellamy could. But here she was, memorizing them on his face. It was one of those ditzy, girls-in-love things she’d never thought she’d do. And yet, whenever she was with him, she kept surprising herself. Finding new pieces of herself she never knew existed.

If Bellamy thought she was closed off, boy, would he be in for a surprise.

The next morning was a Sunday. They usually just laid in bed, thinking about getting out of bed, but mostly just making out for most of the morning. Clarke wanted to do the same, but the situation at hand was way more pressing. So, she had gotten up before him, immediately missing his warmth and had taken to sitting, one leg tucked under the other, on the couch across the bed. She thought of waking him but she chose to pull an Edward and just watch him sleep. He was onto something, that vampire. Watching him sleep was nice in the way meditating or stargazing was. Of course, this was consensual and Edward was a creepy fuck, but that’s a discussion for another day.

With the piece of paper in her hand and the look of pure focus she got when she was about to draw or launch into an impassioned rant, she was all business. But, when Bellamy had finally stirred and his hand had wandered almost instinctively towards Clarke’s side of the bed, she couldn’t help her heart skipping multiple beats.

When he realized she was missing, he lifted his head, looking really adorably worried.

“Miss me?” Clarke asked, mostly just to mess with him. He looked at her, blinking away the sleep, nothing to give away his earlier concern. _And he called her closed off._

“Clarke Griffin up before noon on a Sunday? I feel like I’m part of something historic.” He smirked at her and she really wanted to kiss it off his stupid face but, again, she was a girl with a plan. It didn’t matter that her boyfriend was distractingly hot and his mouth looked really nice, curved like that.

“The only thing historic about this situation is how much of a nerd you are,” she said, an involuntary smile forming on her lips. “A hundred years later, people will still talk about the time you got drunk and cried about the library of Alexandria in front of the girl you had a huge, embarrassing crush on.”

Bellamy looked mildly affronted but mostly amused. “I wasn’t crying. There was just priceless, lost knowledge in my eye. And it worked didn’t it?”

“Nerd,” she decided, fondly.

He smiled in the way that Clarke knew had happened on accident. “Should I come over there or are you coming over here?” She wanted to but, _future of their entire lives,_ and all.

“Stay, boy,” Clarke said. “We’re doing this first.” She lifted the piece of paper into view.

Bellamy squinted at it. “Is it a script for some kind of roleplay? Because you know, I’m in.” Clarke rolled her eyes despite the slight flush on her face.

“This is The Secret List.” Bellamy tilted his head to the side, so the black curls of his hair got in his eye. She felt the urge to tuck it and had to remind herself, a little amazed, that she could do that anytime now.

“So, is the content of this list a secret or is that the title of the script? Because I’m still down.”

She considered him for a second. “Former.” He sat up, indicating that he was now serious. Or semi-serious. As serious as Bellamy Blake could be on a Sunday morning, shirtless and kind of horny. “These are all my deepest secrets and I’m about to read them out to you before I can change my mind.”

“Clarke,” he began, clearly unsettled by the idea.

“The faster we get this over with, the better.” Bellamy opened his mouth again, obviously to argue because that’s what they did. “Please Bellamy, just trust me.” Clarke never pleaded and something in Bellamy gave out.

His eyes softened around the edges and a small smile of resignation played on his mouth. Her fingers itched to draw it. But, again, he wasn’t going anywhere. “Alright.”

She looked down at her list, before she could take off running. She always ran. But this was not going to be one of those times. “My first secret,” she started, but couldn’t continue. “Stop staring at me like that!” To be fair, he was only looking at her conversationally. A little politely. Maybe that grated on her nerves. He wasn’t polite with her. He was heat and kindness and affection. Not this politely distanced stranger.

“Where else am I supposed to look?” He sounded much more amused than he should have been.

“I don’t know! Anywhere else. Look at my boobs. You’ve never had a problem with that.”

He frowned for a moment, like he might refuse. “Yup, I can do that.” And he was a man of his word. Her face flared up considerably. He was reducing her to a giggling school girl, she hated him. (She really didn’t.)

“On second thought, don’t do that. It’s distracting.”

“Good distracting?” He inquired, all innocence and lazy smirking.

“Bellamy,” Clarke warned.

“Okay fine.” He looked back up at her face and it really didn’t help. “But seriously, do you want me to stare at your feet or something?”

“No that’s worse. Just—” she sighed. “Okay fine. You can look at me, but keep your face neutral. Don’t laugh. Don’t smile, and for the love of god, don’t smirk.”

“Me? Smirk? Never.”

“Bellamy Blake—“

“Kidding. I’ll be completely Tommy Lee Jones about it.”

“Yeah, but a little less ‘Get Off My Porch-y’.”

He schooled his face into impressive indifference. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s great.” And she started before she could lose her nerve.

“Okay, so my first secret is this,” she said, slightly forlorn. It was a dumb one but a part of her as any of the others and the knowledge that Bellamy wouldn’t tease her for it was a kind of comfort. “I think it happened in the third grade. I threw Jessie Sullivan’s homework in the trash because she called my face stupid. Then, I told the teacher that she didn’t do it and was trying to copy off mine.” Clarke frowned. “I basically ruined her life.”

Bellamy didn’t smile, but she could tell that he wanted to. Not in a mean way. More like, fondly. It warmed Clarke from her head to her toes, when he smiled at her like that. “I remember this story. You got drunk at O’s birthday party and I had to, practically, carry you home. You kept crying about ruining Jessie Sullivan’s life.”

“Keep the judgement out of your voice, please.”

“Out of the voice, maybe. Never out of the heart.”

She ignored him. “My second secret. Remember that Halloween party Monty and Miller hosted last year?”

“Yeah?” He was there. It was about a week before they started sleeping together and he was constantly trying to flirt with her. Somehow, they had always ended up arguing, which was good because, _make up sex._

“I was Rose Tyler right?” He nodded. “The thing is I’ve never seen one episode of Doctor Who and I have no intention to. It was late and I was tired and I hadn’t gotten a costume so I figured, _Monty and Miller wouldn’t mind if I went to their party without a costume, only with the intention of attaining some alcohol._ ”

“Truly noble,” He deadpanned.

“So, I just toss on this union jack t-shirt, it was just lying around, and the most non-descript brown jacket, which everyone thought was a fire jack Harrie. I still don’t know what it is, by the way. And add to that the blonde hair, and I was Rose Tyler. Everyone loved it.” She looked like a war veteran recounting a tale of lost limbs and broken wills. “I won best costume. The title is now stained with deceit. I am a sham.”

“I know. I asked you about weeping angels and you said that you wish they weren’t so sad.”

She looked at him, thoughtful. “They aren’t sad?”

“ _Honey_.”

“Nerd.”

And then, he was smiling and it was the kind of smile that made Clarke feel like she could rule the world. “You’re smiling. Stop smiling.” But there was no heat to her words, because she never wanted him to stop smiling. Ever. She would like to reiterate the fact that she was fucked.

“That’s going to be hard, as long as you exist.” Clarke snorted. “Feel like jumping my bones yet?” He probed, mock-serious. She still considered it for a full five seconds.

Finally, she said, “Good things come to those who wait.”

“So are those your only secrets or are you building up to the time you committed murder?” Bellamy questioned, yawning and stretching. And she might have felt bad if it weren’t for the way his biceps flexed when he did that.

“Only one way to find out,” she choked out, her voice less even than she would have liked. “Third secret. I only ever started hanging out around you guys because I had this ginormous crush on Octavia.”

A glint of amusement in his eyes. “As does everyone.”

“And then I found out that she was, tragically, straight and that you were, fortunately, straight and then the crush kind of… transferred itself.” Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “You guys have great genes, it was more than my bisexual brain could handle, okay?” He laughed and she forgave him for the judgemental eyebrow raising, because had a nice laugh and she was pathetic.

“Fourth. One time I got kicked out of Bio because I kept picturing my best friend’s hot older brother naked and got really distracted.” That time, it was a full-on smirk. The urge to kiss it off became stronger but she was really, really strong.

“Sounds like the guy was pretty distractingly good looking.”

“The forbidden fruit thing enhanced your good looks quite a bit, to be honest.”

“Please, you can’t get any better than this,” He said gesturing at himself. She ignored him again, even though he was kind of right. His ego didn’t need any more inflating.

“My fifth secret. I did a bit of research on Greek mythology to impress you.”

“See, dating me is an educational experience. I’m actually a saint.”

“Oh please, you nearly had an orgasm when I dropped Hades and Persephone into the conversation.”

“And, as I recall, I gave you multiple orgasms when we roleplayed Hades and Persephone so we’re even.” She refused to blush. She was a woman, completely in-charge of her sexuality. She would not— But his eyes had darkened and turned slightly predatory, obviously recalling that night. It was great, nerdy sex, okay? It was only a moment, and he went back to the look of cool amusement after, but she still found it hard to breathe for a couple of seconds after that.

“Sixth,” She said, hastily, ignoring his low chucking. “My father was diagnosed with cancer after we argued and I told him that I wished he was dead.” She swallowed down on something hard and felt her eyes dampen a little. “He died a few months later. I mean we patched things up before he’d,” A pause, “died but I still feel, I know it’s stupid, like it’s my fault.”

She told him as much before. Not in as many words, and not as coherently. He was falling asleep in her arms, and he looked so calm and invincible, it was like nothing could hurt him and everything did hurt her. She wanted to tell someone and she trusted him. Even then when it was just lust and muddled feelings. So, she whispered it into the crook of his neck and he held her as she cried silently. He was so tired, but he didn’t fall asleep until she stopped.

All the amusement had left his face and the concern that had replaced it was as clear as day. She wanted to reach out and smooth out the crease that had formed between his eyebrows. “Clarke—“

“Let me finish, please,” her voice didn’t crack, but she didn’t feel particularly strong, and even though he was all the way across the room, she felt him with her. Holding her up. Always there.

“Where was I? Right, seventh. My cheating boyfriend died because he sped trying to get to me. You know? To apologize.” Bellamy opened his mouth as if to say something but thought better of it. She knew what he was going to say. That it wasn’t her fault but she knew that. He knew she knew that, so he kept silent and listened to her like she was reciting a part of history. Her heart was in her throat but she kept going. “My best friend died because he got shot at a convenience store, buying me a Mars bar, because I was in one of those moods. And yes, I know it’s not my fault, but I miss him so much, sometimes, it’s like I can’t fucking breathe.” She pressed a hand to her throat as if she was surprised that she had gotten the words out. And she was, but she was also so fucking relieved. “And _Lexa_ , well, she isn’t dead. She’s dead _to_ me.”

“She’s a dick,” he agreed quietly. A ghost of a smiled tugged at her mouth.

“So yes, I do believe to be loved by me is the kiss of death or whatever. And that’s why I’m terrified of opening up. The last thing I want, is to hurt you.”

“Is this what this is about?” he asked, sounding utterly baffled. Of course, Clarke would pick out a single thing he had said that one day and turn it into the life-changing kind of conversation it was shaping up to be. But that was Clarke, and she was pretty sure he loved her for it. “That thing I said earlier? Clarke, that didn’t mean anything. You don’t talk a lot about yourself? So what? That’s just you and I _love_ you,” he pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was, but if you hadn’t noticed, Clarke Griffin was an extremely emotionally stunted person.

She walked over to him, practically beaming and landed on his lap, legs straddling his hips. He leaned in so that their foreheads touched, and she spoke so quietly, he couldn’t help but lean in closer to listen. “Don’t you see, Bellamy? These secrets, the things I don’t tell anyone else, you knew them already.” Her eyes are closed so she felt him smiling more than anything. “You know everything about me because you’re the only one I tell _everything_ to. I give parts of me to different people so that if they leave, I’ll still have something. But with you, I gave you everything just because, I know you won’t leave. You know me better than anyone alive and I trust you so much.” She felt his breath hot against her neck and sighed contentedly. “Which leads me to eight,” she whispered against his ear, taking great pleasure in his shudder. “I’m in love with you. Because you know everything about me and I still want to tell you more. Because you know all the ugly parts of me—”

“—like what you did to poor Jessie Sullivan.” She chuckled softly, amazed despite herself, at this beautiful boy. How did she get so goddamn lucky?

“Yeah, and you still love me don’t you? God, I _love_ you and it’s terrifying but I know I’m not alone here. If there’s one thing I know beyond doubt, it’s that you will always be there for me.”

She placed a trail of kisses, from his cheek to the edge of his mouth, where he grinned this unbelievably goofy grin. He brought his hand up to her cheek and caressed it, like he was touching something rare and important. And when she leaned in to kiss him, it was as natural as breathing. It was chaste and soft and fleeting but she felt like she had swallowed an entire galaxy when it was over. She fit perfectly against him and she still didn’t believe in soulmates, but whenever he smiled at her like that, like she was the best thing that’d ever happened, she was really fucking close.

“You don’t have to be so fucking strong all the time, Clarke.” He was still smiling, his eyes retaining that dreamy quality he had had for some time now, but there was the concern in them, and the surge of affection she felt for him was back in full force. “You can share if you want.”

She looked at him through half-closed eyes and a tangle of blonde curls that had come loose. “That’s why I have you.” She didn’t like to admit weakness, but this wasn’t weakness. This was strength like she had never known before. And this was safety and this was the unknown and her future and her past all rolled into one and she was so fucking happy and unafraid. There was nothing finite about this.

“That’s why you have me,” he confirmed and Clarke, actually, couldn’t stop smiling.

“Now, we can jump each other’s bones.”

The only warning of anything was the glint of mischief in his eyes before he flipped her over with an ease that excited her to no end. She let out a gasp of surprise as he smirked down at her.

“With pleasure.”

And, really, there was a lot of pleasure involved.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm idontgiveaneffie on tumblr. Let's talk about fictional characters and cry about their perfection?


End file.
